


strawberry fields

by demigoddesses



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demigoddesses/pseuds/demigoddesses
Summary: "Madge knows that it’s fake, but looking at Katniss’s smile, Madge can’t help but to think that some of it is real. Katniss just doesn’t know it yet.Madge herself didn’t know she was in love with Katniss for years."__Madge's perspective throughout the series, from before The Hunger Games to the end of Catching Fire.





	

 The dress is a delicate white and as soft as a cloud, the silk cool against her skin. She leans into the mirror and pulls away her honey curls with a pink ribbon. The ensemble is complete with a Mockingjay pin, exquisitely crafted and made of real gold, given to her from her mother. She looks like a doll, as fragile and refined and artificial as glass. _Only the best for the mayor’s daughter_.

“Madge!” her father shouts from downstairs.

“Coming!” she yells. In her haste, she accidentally knocks over a bottle of perfume, and the contents spill out onto the floor. The scent of flowers and sugar and “tropical paradise” overpowers her nose, and she grabs her pillow, takes off the pillowcase, and wipes everything up as quickly as she can.

“ _Madge!_ ” her father shouts again, a bit louder.

“Coming, father,” she repeats, putting the empty perfume bottle back onto her dresser and throwing the doused, scented pillowcase into the laundry hamper. She stops in the kitchen and takes out the blender, a carton of milk, a bag of fresh strawberries, a jar of sugar, and lastly, her mother’s pill basket. She works mechanically. Half a cup of milk, a handful of strawberries, a tablespoon of sugar, two nutrient pills, an antidepressant, a painkiller, and a hefty dose of morphling. The blender whirls, whirls, whirls.

“ _Madge!_ ” her father yells for the third time that day. “Your mother - ”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she mutters under her breath. The smoothly blended mixture goes into her mother’s special blue mug. “I’m coming, I’m here, I’m here,” she says a bit louder, taking the cup and making her way to her mother’s bedroom.

Her father sits at her mother’s bedside. His hair is gray and thinning, his blue eyes dim, his under-eye circles dark. Madge feels bad for making him wait. He’s always so tired and stressed and half-dead; the least she can do is be a good daughter. A good mayor’s daughter.

“I’m here,” she repeats. Her father takes the cup from her and helps her mother sit up and drink. If her father is half-dead, her mother is completely dead. Her face is sunken and ashen, her eyes devoid of life and color, her body limp and unmoving. Once her mother was beautiful, according to her father anyway, but in Madge’s memories, her mother has always been like this - more dead than alive, brittle bones and decay. But her mother seems even worse today. Madge briefly wonders why and then she feels stupid for forgetting. The Reaping.

“You have to drink,” her father coaxes. “Please, you need to keep your strength up…” Her mother picks up the cup with quivering hands and takes a small sip.

“I put strawberries in it,” Madge says in a small voice. “Your favorite.”

If her mother hears her, she doesn’t react. She takes another sip and then pushes the cup back towards her father.

“Drink more,” he insists, pushing the cup back. But her mother refuses to take it. Her father sighs and gives it back to Madge. Wearily, he says, “Take it back to the kitchen. Flush it down the sink. Or something. Just - just get rid of it.”

Madge nods and takes the mug of the frothy pink liquid. Nine out of ten mornings, this is what she ends up doing. She wonders why she and her father bother to keep trying. She’s at the sink when she hears the doorbell ring. She places the mug right next to the sink and rushes over to the door.

Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne stand at the door, side by side. Her heart does an irrational _beat-skip-jump_ at that sight. She’s often wondered if Katniss and Gale are together, but Katniss never mentioned anything about it, and Madge is too shy to ask.

Katniss and Gale sell her strawberries. Of course, they came over for some practical reason. They would never come over to her house just to hang out, just to see her. She tries to calm down her heart rate and takes the ripe berries.

She loves strawberries, but she resists the urge to pop one into her mouth. She needs to save them for her mother.

\

Her mother didn’t really give her the Mockingjay pin. _Giving_ would imply that her mother kissed her on the forehead, told her _I love you_ , and the pinned the golden Mockingjay onto her blouse. The truth is, her mother was about to throw it away, and Madge thought it was pretty, so she took it.

Later, her father told her that the pin had belonged to her aunt.

“What happened to my aunt?” Madge asked.

Mayor Undersee ran a hand through his hair and then wrapped Madge in a hug. (This was back when he cared, before years of loving and caring for a woman who didn’t want to live wore him down.) “She’s in a better place,” he said. Madge was only five, but she was old enough to know what that meant. Even children were required to watch the Hunger Games.

When Madge gives Katniss Everdeen the pin, she asks her, “Promise me you’ll wear it into the arena, Katniss? Promise?”

“Yes,” she says.

And because Madge isn’t sure if she’ll ever see Katniss again, she kisses her on the cheek, and then flits away before Katniss notices the redness in her ears.

\

It’s the night of the Reaping, and the celebrations are in full swing, as they are at the start of every Hunger Games. Partying is required. Huzzah, the Hunger Games, praise Panem, whoo.

The Everdeens, Mellarks, and Hawthornes are missing.

Madge feels sick to her stomach. Doesn’t she have as much of a right as the Hawthornes to stay holed inside her room, under her bedsheets, crying and wondering how she’ll survive the next weeks? But no. She’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed to fall apart.

\

The day the Peeta declares he loves Katniss, she’s in the Town Square watching the Games being televised on the big public screen, and her heart drops into her stomach. A wave of murmurs goes through the square, and Madge notices Gale Hawthorne a few rows away from her, fists clenched and jaw set. And something there clicks in Madge’s head, and her heart clenches.

Her feet seem to move on their own, and she finds herself standing beside him. “Are you okay?” she asks.

He looks at her, and his glare is so red-hot that she almost takes a step back. Instead she tries again, and asks him, “Did she ever know?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Madge rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, if you don’t want to talk about it.” She turns to walk away because she really needs her room and her bed and maybe a teddy bear right now, but then she hears Gale responds behind her.

“No, she didn’t. I was going to tell her the night after the Reaping, but well…” he trails off.

For a second she turning back around and telling Gale everything. ( _I_ _’m sorry, I know how you feel, I was going to_ …) But that’s just for a second. Her head hurts and her heart aches and her stomach is flipping upside down, so she walks away.

\

Katniss and Peeta kiss in the arena. Multiple times. On one hand she’s relieved because they get out alive together; on the other she’s crushed because they get out alive _together_.

She takes a deep breath. Katniss and Peeta are coming home today on the train, and she ought to be supportive and comforting. She can’t imagine what they’ve been through, and she is here to help. When Katniss and Peeta come out of that train, she’s going to be welcoming and give them the vanilla cupcakes she made earlier this morning. She’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed to be selfish.

Madge, unfortunately, arrives late at the train station, having been busy force-feeding the strawberry drink to her mother earlier that morning. (The drink had ended up going down the drain anyway.) The bag with the cupcakes dangling from her left hand, she carefully makes her way through the large crowd that has gathered to see Twelve’s first Victors in over two decades.

“Excuse me,” she says in as polite of a tone as she can muster, slipping through the crowd. “Excuse me…”

She hears someone screaming about how _the Victors are coming_ and _the doors are opening!_ and she wants to shove everyone out of the way, push everyone to the side, and run to those doors. Instead she mutters another “excuse me” through gritted teeth and stands up on her tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of that brown braid. Alas, she can see nothing but Effie Trinket’s ridiculously tall, bright pink wig. Madge can see nothing else with at least three rows of people in front of her.

And then there she is. Katniss. The crowd parts just a little bit so Katniss can walk through. But Katniss is hugging her sister Prim, and hugging Gale, and Peeta is right behind her, and now is not the time to interrupt. Madge is not family, she is not a lover, she is not even a friend like Gale is. She’s just another face in the crowd that Katniss probably doesn’t want. Katniss never did like attention.

Katniss passes by. Madge slinks back into the crowd.

\

Madge was actually absent on that now legendary first day of kindergarten, where Katniss sang and the birds fell silent and the story of the star-crossed lovers began. Her mother had a particularly bad fit, and in the midst of it all, her father had forgotten about kindergarten.

That was okay, though. Even at five Madge was used to being neglected. Besides, she had always been shy and didn’t want to go to kindergarten and meet a lot of new people.

The second day of school, however, the mayor had dropped Madge off at the playground and told her to have fun. He gave her a quick hug and then left in a rush because he had a very important meeting to go to.

School was okay. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it’d be. She’d stayed away from the other children, and they didn’t bother her. It was a little lonely, but even at five Madge was used to being lonely. She liked being quiet and detached.

Katniss was quiet and detached too, and for that reason Madge didn’t really notice her until a full week later when she needed a partner for a project. As everyone else had already paired up, Katniss and Madge were left with each other.

Madge can’t remember what the project was about, in retrospect, just that Katniss was a bit too serious but otherwise nice to work with, and when their teacher announced another project a few months later, Madge immediately looked to Katniss.

\

She musters up the courage the next day to walk over to Katniss’s new house in Victor’s Village, because she still has those cupcakes and she can’t eat them herself, and it would be a waste for them to go stale. She stands on the doorstep, nervously pulls down the hem of her pale green dress with one hand while clutching the bag of cupcakes in the other, and rings the doorbell.

Her heart wildly flip-flops, and her stomach turns upside down, flooding with butterflies, but she manages to paste on a smile as Katniss’s mother opens the door. She’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed to appear frazzled.

“Is Katniss here?” she asks.

Before Katniss’s mother can reply, Katniss herself comes around the corner, hair in a messy braid, wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. The butterflies in Madge’s stomach flutter about three times faster anyway.

“Oh hey Madge,” says Katniss. She yawns. She looks tired, and not just from all the interviews and publicity and festivities that have constantly been surrounding her since she came back to Twelve. “You can come in if you want.”

\

Katniss’s new house is large, and pretty, if a bit empty.

“I made cupcakes,” Madge says. She hands over the yellow paper bag to Katniss and watches as Katniss opens it up and takes out a plastic container. Inside are four perfect vanilla cupcakes, wrapped up in blue and pink paper and topped with a bit of red icing.

“Thank you,” says Katniss. She sets the bag down on a nearby table and opens up the container. A bit of the red frosting has smeared onto the lid, but otherwise the cupcakes are good. Perfect. Or at least she hopes. “I didn’t know you baked.”

Madge shrugs. “My mother has an old recipe book. Her parents used to own a sweet shop - they made candies and stuff mainly, but I found this recipe too.”

“It must have cost a lot,” Katniss says, carefully extracting one of the cupcakes.

“Oh no,” Madge replies, shaking her head. “It was nothing.”

Katniss takes a small bite. “They’re good.” She smiles, just a little bit. Madge resists the urge to melt. “You should have one too.”

Madge shakes her head. “Oh no, you should give them to your mother and Prim and - and Peeta.” Damn that stutter. “Although he’s such a good baker; I doubt he’d want _my_ cupcakes. How is he, anyway?”

“He’s… good,” Katniss replies, a bit awkwardly. She eats her cupcake. Madge watches. Silence wraps around them. It’s usually like this. Katniss was always a bit solemn, and Madge was always shy. It got worse when they turned eleven, and Katniss’s dad died. But that’s okay. Madge doesn’t mind silence.

And then Katniss suddenly puts her half-eaten cupcake down on the table and blurts out, “It’s not real.”

“Pardon?” Madge asks, wondering if there’s something wrong with her frosting or her cupcakes or just her in general…

“Me and Peeta. It - it was just an act, for the Games, to get us out alive, but I’m _tired_ of pretending,” Katniss says in a hushed tone, leaning a bit closer. Madge can’t breathe. “You can’t tell _anyone_.”

Madge pulls back a little bit before she does something stupid and crosses her heart. “Of course I won’t tell anyone.”

Katniss sighs, leans back, and picks up the cupcake again. “Thank you,” she says, taking a bite. She swallows and then adds, “Thank you for understanding. You’re - you’re a good friend.”

Madge pastes on another smile, but on the inside she’s deflating.

\

A few days after that fateful day of kindergarten that she missed, her father got her a nanny in apology.

“This is Trina, Madge,” the mayor said, gesturing towards a Seam woman that Madge had never met before. “Trina Woods. She’ll be your nanny. She’ll look over you and escort you around, just in case your mom and I ever forget.”

Madge had looked up at the woman and tried not to be terrified. Trina was the biggest person that Madge had ever met. She towered over her father, and her feet were the size of Madge’s arms. She had small gray eyes and thick brown hair that was wound up in a tight bun, and her mouth was a thin hard line.

And then Trina bent down so she was eye-level with the girl and said in a kind, soothing voice, “Hi Madge. You and I will be friends, will we?”

Madge burst into a grin.

Trina had been a good woman. _Trina_ never forgot to take her to school or feed her breakfast or help her with her homework. Trina came in the mornings exactly at eight to take Madge to school, and she was never early or late. She was dependable and solid, but soft and gentle too. Trina was the only one who taught Madge how to French-braid her hair and bake cookies and play the piano.

When Madge was nine, Trina died of a heart attack.

Her father, the mayor, told her that he would find a new nanny for her soon, but then he got distracted and forgot all about it. But that was okay. Madge was old enough now to take care of herself, and she didn’t want another nanny.

\

“You’re really good,” Katniss tells her as Madge’s fingers flutter over the piano keys, and Madge wills herself not to blush.

“It’s easy,” Madge says. “This here is middle C.” She grabs Katniss’s hand, ignoring the chills that fly through her, and presses it over the piano key. “I can find some of my old piano books for you…”

“No thanks,” Katniss says, pulling away from the piano. “I’d much rather listen to you play.”

Madge can’t control the blush that comes over that time, and she attempts to duck her head out of Katniss’s view. “Well then,” she says, “I guess I’ll just play.”

Since that day with the cupcakes, Madge comes over to visit Katniss more frequently. And some days Katniss surprises her by paying a visit. Like today, when Katniss had appeared around lunch time with some sandwiches that her mother had made, insisting that she ought to repay for the cupcakes. Madge had tried to decline, but Katniss had insisted. They’d eaten the sandwiches, alone together in the dining room, since Madge’s father was away and her mother was being her mother.

“I thought you usually go hunting on Sundays,” Madge says, when she finishes her piano piece. It’s one of her favorites, a calming, beautiful melody by a composer from before Panem, Claude Debussy. She has an entire book full of compositions by him, but unfortunately it’s old and falling apart. It belonged to her great-grandmother, after all.

“Not today. Gale… did something weird,” Katniss says, staring straight ahead at the piano so that Madge can’t catch her expression and gauge whether or not she has feelings for Gale or something.

Gale. Gale Hawthorne. Right, of course. Madge is just… a replacement friend, since Gale’s so busy working in the mines. It hurts to know that, but Madge supposes she’s just happy to be able to spend time with Katniss, alone and sharing a piano bench, thighs barely brushing. It’s the best she’ll ever get.

“Maybe I’ll take you hunting one day,” Katniss adds, a bit absentmindedly. Madge turns to face the other girl. Katniss appears to be dead serious.

“Are you serious?” Madge asks, although she’s secretly curious. “I would be a nightmare in the forest.”

And then Katniss laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound Madge has ever heard. “Maybe, maybe not,” Katniss says, leaning against Madge on the piano bench and closing her eyes. Madge freezes for just a second, and then she regains her senses and relishes in the feeling.

“Tired?” she asks, hoping her voice doesn’t sound too high or unnatural or nervous.

“Will you play another song?” Katniss merely says, leaning in a bit closer.

Madge complies and plays another song, an old folk tune this time. She listens Katniss quietly sing and feels her warmth against her shoulder and wants to freeze this moment forever.

\

They do end up going to the woods, and more than once. As soon as Madge gets used to it, she finds that she likes it. The calm. The isolation. Katniss.

Katniss is attempting to teach her how to shoot a bow, and Madge pretends that she’s paying attention, but she’s really admiring Katniss, the way the sunlight makes her skin glow and the masterful way she manipulates the bow, as if it’s just an extension of herself. This is Katniss in her purest form, beautiful and confident and in her element.

“Do you want to try?” Katniss asks, handing the bow over to Madge.

Oh. Right. How was she supposed to do this again? “Um…”

“Just put your right hand here… and left here… you are right-handed, right?”

Madge can only nod mutely at the feeling of Katniss’s hands on top of hers and her chest pressed up against her back.

“Draw back,” Katniss tells her, helping her direct the string. She steps out of the way as she says, “Okay, now you release.”

Madge lets the arrow fly, her target being a nearby tree. It misses. She hears Katniss stifle a giggle. Madge turns around and can’t help but to laugh herself. She loves that sound. Katniss’s laugh.

“We’ll try again,” Katniss declares. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t too great on my first shot either…”

\

Shortly after that, Katniss sets off on the Victory Tour. Madge arrives early to the train station this time, so she can say goodbye. Despite that, Madge doesn’t get to talk much to Katniss. The other girl is glued to the hip with Peeta. Holding hands, Peeta leans over to whisper something to Katniss, and they both laugh.

Madge knows that it’s fake, but looking at Katniss’s smile, Madge can’t help but to think that some of it is real. Katniss just doesn’t know it yet.

Madge herself didn’t know she was in love with Katniss for years.

\

On Madge’s tenth birthday, her father actually surprised her with another piano book.

“I saw it in the market and thought you’d like it,” he said, presenting the album of sonatinas to her. “It’s a used copy… is that okay?”

Madge leaped up and gave her father a huge hug, delighted that he had actually remembered. “Yes. It’s okay. I mean, it’s great!”

Later that night, she’d opened up the book and tried her hand at the easiest sonatina that she could find. Goodness, they were all so long and complex. She’d barely played the first few lines when her father had come rushing into her room and told her that her mother was having a particularly bad fit and the music was giving her headaches so _would she please be considerate and stop?_

\

“I didn’t know you had a piano at your place,” Madge comments. “And a _grand_ piano, no less.” She’s only seen pictures of the majestic, sleek instrument on the covers of her piano books.

“Me neither,” Katniss says. “This place is so big, and I never really had a reason to explore, but Prim found it yesterday and thought you would like it.”

“How does she know I play piano?” Madge asks, walking towards the instrument and brushing her instrument across the top. It’s a bit dusty, but otherwise it seems to be in decent condition. It is a grand piano, after all.

“I told her, of course,” Katniss answers, and Madge is glad that her back is turned to her, so that Katniss can’t see her face heat up. Katniss _talks_ about her. And then she feels silly for getting so excited about such a small things. They are friends, after all. Friends talk about friends.

It’s been a few days since the Victory Tour, and this is the first time she and Katniss have been alone again. Madge sits down on the bench and opens up the black cover of the piano. She invites Katniss to sit by her with a simple hand gesture. Katniss walks slowly, a preoccupied expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” Madge asks.

Katniss says nothing.

“How are Peeta and Gale?” Madge tries again. She’s not sure why she asks these sort of questions when Peeta and Gale are the last thing she wants to talk about.

Katniss scowls and says sharply, “Let’s not talk about boys. I don’t want to even think about that, let alone talk about it.”

Her caustic tone makes Madge wince. “I’m sorry,” Katniss says. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. But I just mean, I’m so sick of it. Boys.”

Madge bites her lip and before she can stop herself, blurts out, “What about girls?”

Katniss stares at her and blinks. “What about them?” she asks, completely oblivious.

“Never mind,” Madge mumbles.

She never brings it up again.

\

Madge starts to come over to Katniss’s house more often once they discover the piano. She tries to teach Katniss a couple simple songs, but Katniss doesn’t seem too interested, and Madge soon gives up. Prim does come in once, however, and she picks up the piano rather quickly. Prim is a darling little girl, all smiles and innocence, and Madge wishes she had a little sister like her.

She stays over for dinner a couple times. It’s nice to sit down and eat a home-cooked meal with Katniss’s family. Prim talks about her adventures at school and feeds scraps of food to her cat Buttercup under the table, while Katniss pretends not to notice. Mrs. Everdeen asks Madge if she wants more mashed potatoes and makes tea.

“Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen. You’re a very good cook,” says Madge, never forgetting her manners. She wipes her mouth with a napkin. The food is delicious.

Mrs. Everdeen smile modestly. “I do try my best, for my girls.”

Prim laughs. “Oh Mom, you’re amazing, and you know it.” Katniss nods along. Mrs. Everdeen stands up and asks if they want any cookies.

“Where did those come from?” Katniss asks.

“Peeta dropped by,” her mother replies. The room gets awkward after that, but only for a second. Buttercup suddenly yawns loudly, and soon they’re all laughing at Prim’s stories again, while munching on sweet, buttery cookies. Madge finds herself laughing along.

Madge wishes her family was like that.

\

As she does every morning, she wakes up early, eats breakfast, and stirs up her mother’s drink. Milk, sugar, nutrient pills, an antidepressant, a painkiller, strawberries, and morphling. She makes a mistake and puts in more morphling than she’d intended to. Rather than flushing the entire thing down the sink and starting over, she blends it up as usual and takes it to her mother.

She remembers a time when she would have started over, measuring everything out precisely. Her mother deserved that, after all. And she didn’t want to get her mother too addicted to morphling; morphling wasn’t good for you. Her father used to watch Madge as she made the drink and monitor her so that she wouldn’t make a mistake. But after a while he gave up on caring. And Madge did too.

She takes the drink to her mother’s room. “Good morning,” she says, pasting on her best smile. “How are you, Mother?”

Her mother says nothing, as usual.

“Father’s still down at the office. He had to pull an all-nighter because of some important business. Something about new Peacekeepers and things like that,” Madge explains, even though she knows her mother isn’t listening. She sits down on her mother’s bed and tries not to be repulsed by the withered mass of flesh. This is her mother, after all.

Madge coddles her mother into drinking most of the strawberry concoction. It takes almost half an hour, but the glass is nearly empty. She gives her mother a kiss on the forehead and returns back to the sink to wash the glass. What a perfect daughter she is.

She occupies herself by reading and playing the piano - softly, so that she won’t disturb her mother, who is currently sleeping. She plays the sonatinas that she knows like the back of her hand now. But playing softly doesn’t work, despite the fact that her mother is two floors away. She can hear her mother having another fit. She’s worse than usual today. Madge closes the lid of the piano.

\

She actually liked it better back when her father used to yell at her for playing the piano too loudly and disturbing her mother. Nowadays he never yells at her. He rarely ever talks to her, period. It’s like she doesn’t exist. At least when she was being yelled at, she knew she existed. She knew _he_ existed.

Her father’s been quiet and broody as of late, when he’s even home. Just last year at the Reaping he was yelling at her to make her mother’s drink correctly. She wonders what’s happened and why he’s given up hope completely. She wonders what’s gone wrong, what she’s done wrong. She wonders how long it’ll take before her father joins her mother in the bed, and she has to make strawberry shakes for him too.

\

Around noon, after calming her mother down, she opens up the refrigerator to make some lunch and realizes that they’re almost out of strawberries. She’ll ask Katniss about it, she decides, although she’s not sure if Katniss will be able to help. It’s winter, and strawberries don’t grow in winter. Nonetheless, it can’t help to ask. And she wants an excuse to see Katniss anyway.

She tells her mother that she’s going out, puts on a thick jacket and a pair of boots, and heads over to Katniss’s house in Victor’s Village. But the moment she steps outside, she knows something’s wrong. The streets are empty, an uneasy hush over the air. She walks slowly, her footsteps crunching in the snow, the only sound in the silence. And then she runs. She runs and runs until she makes it to the town square, where everyone seems to have gathered. Gathered to watch… a whipping. And not just any whipping, the whipping of Gale Hawthorne. Oh God.

“No! Stop it! You’ll kill him!” someone shrieks, and then Katniss surges out of the crowd. The whip doesn’t stop, instead landing on Katniss’s face. The crowd gasps. Madge recoils sharply, as if the whip has hit her instead. She looks at Katniss, her face swollen and red and purple, yet it’s clear her sole focus is Gale. She looks at Gale, passed out, with angry red lashes all over his back, his blood staining the white snow, the scent of it heavy and sharp in the air.

Madge wants to throw up, but she doesn’t. She knows what she has to do.

\

Two days later, Katniss appears at her house holding a small plastic bag. She looks absolutely adorable bundled up in a jacket and scarf and a little cap. Madge hasn’t seen her since the incident with Gale and the whipping, and her heart nearly stops right there.

“Oh, come in, you must be freezing,” she says, gesturing for Katniss to come in.

Katniss shakes her head. “I can’t. I need to get home quick. But I brought you these.” She lifts up the plastic bag and places it in Madge’s hands. Madge peeks in, and her eyes widen at the sight of the ripe red berries.

“Strawberries?” Madge asks, with a small gasp. “But it’s winter! How did you…?”

Katniss only shrugs. “I ordered them from the Capitol. I can spare the money.”

“Katniss, you really didn’t have to do that. I could have done that myself!” Madge protests.

“I just wanted to… thank you,” Katniss says, looking down a bit and shuffling in the snow. “For what you did for Gale.”

 _I didn’t do it for Gale, I did it for you_ , Madge wants to say. She wants to scream it. She wants to grab Katniss and kiss her and -

Then Katniss adds, “Anyway, I have to get home. Back to Gale.”

Back to Gale. Of course. The words die in her throat. “Oh, right. Well, thanks for the strawberries.”

Katniss is already walking away, hands in her pocket and footsteps crunching in the snow. Madge leans against the cold doorframe and watches Katniss’s retreating figure until it disappears. “I did it for you,” she whispers to herself. Her heart hurt, her head pounds, and she feels an irrational urge to punch something.

\

Later, she feels bad for almost punching something. Sure, Katniss will never feel the same way, but they’re friends. And Madge loves their friendship. She cherishes every single moment of it. As much as she would want more, this is what she’ll get, and she’ll be satisfied with it. She _is_ satisfied with it. More than satisfied, _thrilled_. Happy. Katniss is alive and healthy and her best friend, and that’s really what’s important.

Her father’s home for once, and her mother’s fast asleep, a strong dose of morphling having knocked her out. They’ve got a new shipment of drugs straight from the Capitol that’s supposed to come tomorrow. She plays the piano and tries to convince herself that really, she’s happy with this. She’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed to want more.

\

She’s found a store of frozen strawberries deep, deep in the freezer and is in the middle of sniffing them to make sure they’re not rotten when the television turns on.

The television resides in the living room, which is right next to the kitchen, but it’s usually off. Television, like pretty much everything else, gives her mother headaches, and her father has a personal television in his office if he needs to watch something. So the only time when the television turns on is during the Hunger Games, when it’s required that everyone watches. To turn around and see President Snow on the screen, a rose on his lapel, spooks Madge more than she’d like.

She puts the strawberries in the sink, turns on the faucet so that she can let the fruit soak, and walks closer to the television so she can properly hear. And then she freezes when she realizes just what President Snow is announcing. The words whirl through her head.

_75th Hunger Games… Quarter Quell… Reaped from the existing pool of Victors…_

_Katniss._

It isn’t until she hears the sound of water splashing onto the ground that she unfreezes and realizes that she forgot about the strawberries and the running faucet. She rushes to turn the faucet off and get a towel and take out those strawberries, going through all the motions, but really all she’s thinking about is Katniss. And how Katniss is going back into the arena.

\

Naturally she wants to go over and talk to Katniss _immediately_ , but she acts logically and decides that Katniss will likely want some space right now. That, and her mother needs lunch. Lunch for her mother is usually just another shake, except with a little less morphling, and maybe a strawberry tart or two.

When Madge was little and her father still cared, he told her that strawberry tarts were her mother’s favorite baked good, since strawberries were her favorite fruit. He told her how he brought her strawberry tarts on their first date, and that was how they fell in love.

“My mother always said, the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach,” he said, a nostalgic expression on his face. “It’s her strawberry tart recipe, too. Maybe one day I’ll teach you how to make them.”

Madge had nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, please!”

Her father had fluffed her hair and said, “One day when I’m a little less busy, Madge. Okay?”

Madge had believed him when he’d said things like that, back then. She nodded again. “Okay!”

He had, of course, never gotten around to teaching her. But that was okay. Trina had ended up teaching her instead. In fact, strawberry tarts were the first thing Trina ever taught her how to bake. Her first tart had been clumsy and almost fallen apart, but her mother had eaten the entire thing, and Madge’s heart had swelled up with pride.

Now, she takes the perfectly baked tarts out of the oven and sprinkles on a bit of powdered sugar with expert, experienced hands. She nibbles on one of the sweet treats. It’s perfect. Even if she knows her mother won’t eat it. Her mother gave up on eating around a month ago, and Madge has to force her mouth open and pour strawberry shakes down her throat to get her to stay alive.

Madge places a tart on a porcelain plate and puts the plate and her mother’s drink on a tray with a picture of a rose on it. Everything is perfect.

Everything is wrong.

\

Katniss appears to be surprisingly calm for a girl who’s just been told that she’s going back into basically hell. WIth her shoulders square and back straight, she tells Madge that she’s going back to the arena, and she has a plan.

“I’m only sorry that I’ll be busier, so I won’t be able to come around as much,” Katniss says.

Madge shakes her head. “Oh no, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The other girl frowns. “Actually, if you hear any news of a rebellion from the Capitol - ”

Madge nods solemnly. “I’m on it.”

\

The night before the Reaping, Madge stops by Katniss’s house to deliver another Capitol newspaper. She’s been smuggling them from her father’s office or out of the garbage bin; it’s not too difficult, considering her parents never pay any attention to her. She takes a deep breath, rings the doorbell, and tells herself that this isn’t going to be her last newspaper, of course. Katniss is going to be Reaped, sure, but she’s strong and has a plan and _will be coming back_.

The door opens. Katniss stands in the doorframe, her hair loose for once, and a wide smile spreads across Madge’s face.

“Hey,” she says, holding out the newspaper, “I have another one.”

Katniss takes the paper and nods. She looks different tonight, and it’s not just the hair. She’s just so… humorless. And Katniss avoids Madge’s eyes, instead staring at the newspaper as if she’ll never see it again.

Madge swallows. “I guess I’ll see you after the Games.”

“Yeah,” Katniss says, but she doesn’t really sound like she means it. She stares at her feet.

“I _will_ see you after the Games. You survived once. You can do it again,” Madge says, hoping she sounds encouraging instead of clingy and desperate.

“Madge, here’s the thing,” Katniss says, still looking down, her voice low and rushed. “If I make it out, Peeta doesn’t. And I don’t really - well, he’s too good to me, and I need to do this for him.” She finally looks up at Madge. Her eyes are clear and dry, steely and determined. “If you ever need any more strawberries, ask Gale, okay?” And with that, Katniss turns around, closing the door behind her. It’s the last time Madge will ever see Katniss in person again.

\

The next few days are a bit of a blur. Katniss gets Reaped. Madge doesn’t get to say goodbye. Katniss is gone, and she doesn’t even plan on coming back.

But it’s all snippets and fog to Madge, and her head hurts more often than not, and one day she’s making her mother’s drink and staring at the frothy pink liquid and she feels so awful that she almost drinks it herself.

Oh God. She’s turning into her mother.

She takes the drink to her mother who, predictably, refuses it. Madge pours it down the sink and washes her hands and misses Katniss.

\

And then they run out of strawberries. It’s expected, of course, with Katniss gone, strawberries don’t last forever. What’s the point, anyway? Her mother doesn’t eat anything regardless.

So she skips making the shake that morning, but then that night, she and her father are watching the chariot rides of the Hunger Games in the living room when he says, “You haven’t been making the strawberry drinks.”

Madge, who was picking at loose threads in the once immaculate blue sofa and resolutely avoiding the television screen, looks up immediately and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her father sits in his personal armchair, reading some newspaper.

“P-pardon?” she finally says, shocked.

Her father is still reading the newspaper. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice, Madge?”

 _Yes, I thought you wouldn’t notice! You never notice anything! You’re never around!_ she wants to scream. But she’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed to get angry. So instead she takes a deep breath and says, in as demure of a tone as she can muster, “I’m sorry, Father. We ran out of strawberries, so I stopped making them. I’ll get more strawberries tomorrow.”

She doesn’t even think her father’s listening.

\

Her earliest memory comes from when she was around four or maybe three. She’d always been an isolated child, and the first time she’d met another child her age, the son of someone on the district council along with her father, Madge had bit him.

Looking back, Madge can’t remember exactly why, except that he’d said something mean about her mother and pulled her hair. But of course, when the other boy began crying and all the adults came over running, they blamed her. Her father had later taken her aside and told her that as the mayor’s daughter, she was an example, she had to be nice, she had to be pretty, she had to be _perfect_.

That night, her mother had gotten a terrible, terrible headache (this was back when her mother’s headaches were rare) and taken morphling for the first time, and Madge had taken that as a sign.

So the next day, Madge apologized to the boy and gave him cookies that she bought from the bakery with her own allowance money. The boy refused to take the apology but took the cookies. She begged him to forgive her because otherwise her mother would die from headaches, and he finally agreed to forgive her, if she gave him more cookies. Madge had emptied out her piggy bank and happily complied. And that night, her mother had stroked her hair and told her that strawberries were her favorite fruit.

And so three or four-year-old Madge had learned. She had to be perfect, or her mother would get sick. And when her mother had been bedridden and moaning in pain the next day, Madge had wondered sat at her bedside and cried and wondered what she did wrong.

\

Madge knows where Gale lives, only because Katniss had pointed it out to her a few times when they used to go to the woods. But she’s never really had a reason to go there. She feels strange going into the Seam without Katniss, like an outsider, and even stranger knocking on Gale’s door. They’ve never really talked, and she never got the impression that Gale particularly liked her…

Strawberries. She has to get her mother strawberries, she reminds herself. So she waits for Gale to open the door. She fiddles with the long sleeves of her dress. Winter’s coming to an end and the sun’s out today, but there’s a brisk wind and Madge still finds it fairly cold outside. She waits five seconds, ten, fifteen… Perhaps they didn’t hear her previous knock. She knocks again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she hears someone yell. And then a thin woman holding a young child in one arm opens the door. That must be Gale’s mother, Mrs. Hawthorne.

“Hi,” Madge says, “I’m looking for Gale. It’s Sunday, so he should be here… ”

“He sure is,” Mrs. Hawthorne says with a warm, genuine smile. “I’ll just call for him.” She turns around and yells, “ _Gale, some girl’s here for you!_ ”

“A girl,” the infant gurgles, smiling.

“That’s right, Posy,” Mrs. Hawthorne coos, cuddling her child. “Why don’t you come in? Hm, and I didn’t catch your name.”

“Madge. Madge Undersee,” Madge says, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. The room is sparsely furnished with only one worn couch and a TV in the corner, but little signs of a family litter the floor: handmade wooden toys, a heap of laundry, a dog-eared book about setting snares. The Hawthorne home is small but cozy, messy but comfortable.

At this moment, Gale appears. “Mom, why did you -” He notices Madge and stops mid-sentence, saying a small, “Oh.” And then he frowns. “What are you doing here?”

Madge pastes on her best smile. “Katniss told me to come to you if I ever needed more strawberries.”

He snorts and eyes her expensive stockings and the velvet collar of her dress. “ _Needed_? More like wanted.”

“Gale, be polite,” says Mrs. Hawthorne from the other side of the room. She’s busy folding the heap of laundry while bouncing Posy on her lap, and Madge wonders how Mrs. Hawthorne even heard him.

Gale ignores his mother and only scowls. “I can’t get you strawberries anyway. The electric fence is actually up, remember? Order them from the Capitol or something.”

Madge shakes her head. “I already tried that.” That’s what her family usually does during the winter when Katniss can’t get her fresh strawberries. “But something’s wrong there. Something about transportation and District issues…”

Suddenly, Gale’s eyes light up. The transformation from scowl to smile is so quick that Madge resists the urge to rub her eyes. “Oh, that’s brilliant,” he says. “They’re rebelling!”

“ _Gale_ ,” Mrs. Hawthorne says harshly from the other side of the room.

Once again, Gale ignores his mother. “Hey Madge, I can get you strawberries,” he suddenly says. “If you’re not afraid to go to the black market?”

\

“I thought the Hob was burned down,” Madge says, trying to keep up with Gale’s long strides. He’s so much taller than her.

“Yeah, you’re right, the Hob was burned down. But we just moved locations and got smarter,” Gale explained. He turns to face her. “Madge, look, you can’t tell anyone about this new place, alright? No one. Not your mother, your father -”

“I won’t,” Madge interrupts. “I’m good with secrets.” She remembers the day Katniss told her about Peeta, and her own secret that she holds within.

“You better be,” Gale says. He checks over his shoulder to make sure that no one is around them and then turns around into a dark, twisting alley. He goes left, then right, and then he stops, so suddenly that Madge nearly bumps into him.

“Shhh,” he says, even though Madge wasn’t about to say anything. They stand in silence, their shallow breaths and a distant scuttling the only audible sound. What is that scuttling? Have they been followed?

And then Gale says, “Nah, just rats. Come on in.” He pushes on a part of the wall, revealing a secret door. Madge’s eyes widen. “Let’s get your strawberries.”

\

The next week, Madge drops by for more strawberries and a bit of human company too. She likes Gale’s family - his warm mother, who insists to be called Hazelle, his adorable baby sister, and his younger brother Rory, who Madge meets on her second visit. And Gale is growing on her too. Madge offers to babysit Posy for free, since Hazelle seems to always have her hands full, and after that she sees the Hawthornes every day. Once she runs into Prim there as well. She’d been avoiding the Everdeens since Katniss left, but Prim is sweet and kind and more or less experiencing the same thing Madge is, and Madge decides to make an effort to visit the Everdeens more frequently after that. And then life gets a little less blurry.

On the third Sunday, Gale and Madge walk over to new black market together, and Gale says, “You know, you could go there by yourself. You’ve probably figured out the way by now, haven’t you?”

Madge shakes her head. “It’d feel weird there alone. Since I’m from Town. Maybe when I’m with you it’s okay, but by myself, I wouldn’t belong,” she replies, a bit absentmindedly. Her brain is still on Katniss and Peeta kissing on the beach in the Games last night. And Katniss told her it was fake, but that was _months_ ago. It’s obviously real now…

“Huh. You’re less ditzy that I expected.” Gale’s voice brings Madge back to the world. “You’re right, you wouldn’t belong.”

“Thanks,” Madge says sarcastically.

They take another turn in the alley. Gale is right; Madge probably could make it here by herself. She knows where the hidden door is now and everything - right underneath the brick with the brown scuff.

“Can I open the door this time?” Madge asks. She turns to face Gale for an answer when all of a sudden she finds herself with her back pushed against the wall and Gale’s lips on hers.

It happens so quickly that it takes two full seconds to process but when she does, she pulls away and pushes Gale’s chest, hard.

“It’s not me you want.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself and says in a shaky voice, “And it’s not you _I_ want.”

Gale stares at her, the look in his gray eyes almost deranged, and says in a low voice, “We can pretend though, can’t we?” He leans in again.

She hits him this time, her fist pounding on his hard muscles. He blinks.  _Did he really this is so wrong I don’t I can’t_ _did he really -_ She takes another deep breath to clear her mind. “I’d have to be a fool to convince myself into thinking… ” she begins, and then she thinks better of it and trails off.

Gale rubs the spot on his chest where she hit him. “Into thinking what?” he asks.

“- into thinking you’re her,” she finishes, her voice barely a whisper. And then she turns around and runs away in mortification. It’s out and it feels good but no one was ever supposed to know because she’s the mayor’s daughter, and she is not allowed be in love with Katniss Everdeen.

\

She can’t pinpoint the exact moment when she knew she had fallen for Katniss. It was sometime during the freshman year of high school, Madge supposes, after the brunt of puberty. Maybe it was at the end-of-the-year, mandatory banquet where Katniss had worn a dress and scowl the entire night, except for once when Madge made her smile and it was beautiful. Or maybe it was when they were working on that English project and Madge dropped the glue and their hands touched and for the first time Madge felt something inside her stir.

Or maybe it goes even further than that, back to eighth grade when Madge was thirteen and rumors of Katniss hunting in the woods with a mysterious older boy were beginning to circulate. Madge had always liked Katniss a little bit, but there Madge began to respect and admire her. And the part about the older boy… well, Madge wasn’t sure what to think of that.

That night, in a rare moment of family interaction, she and her father had been eating dinner together when he asked her if she liked any boys.

Madge was utterly confused. “No. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Thirteen was when I first fell in love with your mom, I mean, did you know that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like any boys. But maybe later I’ll fall in love with my kid’s future mom too.”

“You mean your kid’s future dad?” her father asked with an amused smile.

No, she meant what she’d said. Perhaps the word _mom_ had slipped out without her intending so, but Madge had meant what she’d said. She couldn’t picture herself with a man, ever. And out of nowhere she thought of Katniss.

But her father was staring at her expectantly, so she said, “Yes, sorry, that’s what I meant. My kid’s future… dad.” Her father couldn’t know the truth - not now, not ever. No one could ever know.

\

This is it. The end of her life. Maybe, Madge thinks as she runs home away from Gale, he didn’t hear. She had whispered it after all. Or maybe, she can convince him it was a slip of the tongue. She had meant to say _him_. Or maybe, she can tell him that he misheard. Of course she had said _him_. Ha ha ha.

But Gale won’t buy it. She heard it, he heard it, it’s as if the whole _world_ heard it. And her quick, frazzled escape only confirmed it. She should have stayed there, corrected herself, acted like it was no big deal.

But it is a big deal. It’s a huge deal.

She opens the door of her house and shuts herself inside. She leans against the door, breathing heavily. She closes her eyes. It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen…

 _Toc toc toc_. Someone knocks on the door. Madge’s eyes fly open.

“It’s Gale,” she hears someone say through the door.

Gale. No no no. _If you act like it’s just a mistake and no big deal, he will too._ She takes a deep breath, pastes on a smile, and opens up the door. “Hi Gale.” Casual, casual.

He holds a carton of strawberries in his hands. “You forgot your strawberries.”

“Right,” she says, taking the carton. “Thank you. Is that all?” Maybe he really didn’t hear her. He’s not bringing it up, after all.

He doesn’t answer for a while. _Please don’t bring it up, please don’t…_ He opens his mouth. Oh God, he’s going to ask her about it, and then, and then -

“I want to show you something,” he tells her. “Do you have a radio?”

\

On the way to wherever Gale is taking her, they are quiet. Madge normally doesn’t mind silence - likes it, even - but the entire way there, she feels uneasy. Why isn’t he saying anything? Should _she_ say something? Would that be showing she cared too much?

In the end she keeps her mouth shut, and Gale does too. Her mind is whirling so fast that she’s barely even paying attention to where he’s taking her. So when she suddenly finds herself in front of the woods, she does a double take.

“Why did you take me here? You know we can’t go in.” She gestures at the electric fence.

Gale shakes his head. “I found a gap,” he declares. “Well, one of my friends did.” He gestures at a small place in the fence isn’t electric. But it’s awfully small, and not even Madge with her small frame feels as if she could comfortably climb over that, not without being electrocuted.

“I know you think it’s too small,” Gale continues, as if having read her thoughts. “But watch.” It’s then that Gale asks for Madge’s radio, which she passes over without a word. He pulls the antenna to its greatest length, points it at the fence, and turns the radio on.

Madge hasn’t used that radio in years - it only plays the Capitol News station anyway - and furthermore, it’s likely that Gale’s never seen a real radio in his life. Nothing against him, but radios are rare and expensive. So she’s surprised that he knows how to use it, and even more surprised when the electric fence begins to buzz and flicker. With a bit more fiddling from Gale, a small portion of the fence completely turns off.

“Hurry,” Gale says, already crawling under. “It doesn’t work forever.” Madge follows him under the fence, again, wordlessly. She’s glad she chose to wore pants today.

“How do you know how to work a radio?” Madge asks, as Gale turns the device off. The fence goes back to normal, electric with just a tiny gap.

He shrugs. “I don’t. I saw one on television once and improvised. I work with snares, Madge. Mechanical things come naturally to me.”

They walk in silence for a few more moments. Madge is unsure where Gale is taking her, or why. She decides that she should stress less and calm down. She’s only happy that Gale isn’t bringing _it_ up. She looks at the trees and grass and flowers, green and newly blooming now that it’s springtime. It’s a lovely day, warm and rather nice…

And then Gale suddenly stops and says, “I’m going to work with weapons once the rebellion comes to Twelve.”

Madge blinks. “Pardon?”

He sits down on the dirt and pats the spot next to him, as if inviting her to sit down. Madge pauses for a second, wondering if her parents will notice if she gets dirt on her jeans before deciding that even if they noticed, they probably wouldn’t care. She sits down.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Gale says. “I used to come here with Katniss. Not always to hunt. I would scream about how much I hated the Capitol and how unfair life was. It just felt good to… get it out, you know?”

Katniss. At just the name, Madge’s stomach swoops. She hopes it doesn’t show. “So you took me here so you could scream?”

He turns to her. “No. So you could.”

Oh God. She’d thought he’d forgotten. Of course he hadn’t. She forces herself to look into Gale’s eyes and says, as convincingly as she can, “I don’t need to scream anything.”

He’s unconvinced. “I get it; you’re the mayor’s daughter, gotta be perfect and all. But no one’s here Madge, except for me, and I swear I won’t tell anyone. Besides, I already know.”

She remains silent. This is some trick. Some trap. It took years for her to master perfection. But _oh he knows and it’s all ruined now and_ -

“Alright, if you’re not going to say anything.” Gale stands up, cups his mouth, and screams at the trees, “ _I hate the Capitol!_ ” The wind rustles. “I am going to find a rebellion in Twelve, or create one, and I don’t even care if I kill someone in the process!” He pauses and looks at Madge expectantly.

Quietly, she stands up, her heart hammering. “I like girls,” she says, under her breath, a whisper to herself.

“Louder,” Gale urges.

“ _I_ _like girls_ ,” she repeats, just a tiny bit louder. And then it’s like the floodgates open because she cups her mouth, like she saw Gale did earlier, and screams at the wind, “I _love_ girls! _I love Katniss Everdeen_!” And then as quickly as it came, the rush leaves and she suddenly realizes what she just said and she stands, breathing heavily, waiting for lightning to strike her dead right there for her sins.

And then Gale laughs. At first she thinks he’s laughing at her, but then he says, “I always thought it was Peeta, you know? That day when we were watching the Games where they first kissed… I mean, I suspected something was up but I thought it was Peeta.” He pauses. “Man, she’s so lucky. And so damn oblivious.”

She nods. It feels like a giant load has been lifted off her chest. “Yeah,” she says, releasing a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I mean, on the oblivious part. Not the lucky part. Gale, she’s in the Games and everything…”

He turns to face her and scrutinizes her. “You’re not upset with her? Not just a little bit?”

Madge thinks of that time she almost punched something and chews on her lip and then shakes her head. “No. I’m not. What about you?”

Gale kicks a small rock at his feet. It bounces off a tree and returns back to its original spot at Gale’s feet. He scowls. “Yes. No. I hate the Capitol for taking her away. I hate the Capitol for forcing her into something she didn’t want. But I don’t hate her. I don’t even hate Peeta. He’s just so _nice_ , you know? And how can I hate them when they’re in a fight to the death and will probably both end up dead?” He kicks the rock again. This time, it flies away and stays away. “No, I don’t hate her. But I hate the Capitol and _God_ , it’s just so unfair.”

Madge finds herself nodding along. “It is.” She feels the sudden urge to cry, which is ridiculous. She doesn’t cry. The mayor’s daughter doesn’t cry. Then again, the mayor’s daughter doesn’t sneak into the woods with a radio and scream at the trees that she loves girls, either. So she lets herself cry, just a little bit, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. If Gale notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Madge doesn’t know how long they stay in the woods. She follows Gale along as he checks his snares and shoots down game and kicks the occasional rock. She helps him carry one of the burlap bags with the game and, with Gale’s help, even shoots down a slow-moving squirrel. The sun begins to set, but Gale isn’t done. He takes her to one last place: the strawberry patch.

The patch is rather empty, as winter has barely ended, but even so, there are little clumps of red scattered around. Madge feels her mouth curl up into a smile - a real one. Together, they gather up the little berries, and then they begin to head home.

“I’m sorry,” Gale says.

They’ve been mostly silent all day, apart from their confessions, of course, and to say Madge is confused is an understatement. “About what?”

“About kissing you earlier,” he answers. “That was wrong.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No, seriously. It was messed up,” he says. He kicks another rock.

She drops the act. There’s no need to hide her true feelings - not around Gale, anyway. “Yeah, it was. Don’t go around doing stuff like that again.”

They’ve reached the fence now so Madge digs out the radio. It takes a while, longer than before, to get the fence to flicker off, but it thankfully works. Madge likes the woods, but not enough to hide in there forever. Gale swings the sack of game over his shoulder and heads off his own separate way, leaving her with the strawberries and the radio and her thoughts.

\

The moon is unusually bright tonight, and Madge moves to close the curtains, as she knows that light will likely bother her mother. She pauses for just a second before pulling the curtains together, staring at the bright glowing orb and the few twinkling stars. She remembers a something Trina told her once - that everyone always saw the same moon - and wonders if Katniss is looking at the moon right now too. If Gale is. If her father, down at the office, is.

Her mother coughs behind her, cocooned in the blankets of her bed, and Madge snaps out of her thoughts. She tears her eyes away from the moon and shuts the curtains.

Her mother coughs again. Madge turns around. “Are you okay, Mother? Do you need warm water or something?”

The woman in the bed doesn’t respond, only pulls the covers around her tighter and shivers.

“I’m going to get some warm milk for you, okay?” Madge says.

That’s when the room bursts into flames.

\

At first, Madge tries to get out of the house. She isn’t sure what’s going on, but she knows she needs to get out. She pulls on her mom, trying to get her out of the bed. Coaxing, explaining at first, and then yelling and screaming. She manages to hoist the limp, heavy body of her mother onto her shoulders. Coughing and crying as the smoke fills up her lungs and eyes, she heads for the door.

Everything is burning, and everything hurts.

Madge sets her mother back down on the bed and lies down beside her. _So this is how it ends_ , she thinks. She’s so tired, so dejected. She closes her eyes.

\

When Madge opens her eyes, she finds herself in an endless strawberry field. The sky is a dreamy shade of blue, punctuated with fluffy delicate clouds. The fields sway with the wind and brush against her calves. Madge herself is barefoot and wearing a white sundress.

 _Where am I? Am I dead?_ she wonders. She looks around and blinks.

Standing in front of her, several yards away, is Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss is dressed simply, not in the flashy garb of the Capital, nor in a white dress like Madge. She wears an olive hunting jacket, black pants, and boots: the same outfit that Madge would see her wearing so many times, before the Games. But her hair is loose - swaying in the breeze, swaying with the rhythm of the strawberry fields.

“Madge?” she asks, her eyes wide and familiar, her voice familiar.

For a moment, Madge stands frozen, utterly stunned. And then she breaks into a run towards Katniss. And when she reaches out, she half believes that Katniss will dissipate at her touch.

But she doesn’t. Katniss is solid and real in her arms, and as Madge holds her, Katniss reaches out and pulls her close.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Katniss murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Madge says. “It’s okay.”

Madge breathes in the smell of the dirt and the dusty scent of Katniss’ hair, feels the softness and warmth of the embrace and the rapid beating of her own heart. She doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Maybe it’s a minute, maybe it’s hours. But it isn’t long enough.

Above, the sky rumbles. Madge pulls away and looks up. The sky is gray now, the once gentle breeze a cold wind. Tears prickle in her eyes, but the smile she musters is real.

“I’m sorry,” Katniss says, and Madge understands that it’s for the last time.

The tears slip openly down her face, but the smile she maintains is real. She reaches out and cups Katniss’ cheek, surprised when she feels something wet: Katniss’ tear. She wipes it away. Her hand is trembling, or maybe Katniss is trembling, or maybe the ground is trembling. The world is falling apart.

She doesn’t have much time left. She opens her mouth; there’s so much she wants to say. _It’s okay. I love you. You don’t have to be sorry. I love you. I don’t regret a thing. I don't regret loving you._  She swallows, and she struggles to focus on Katniss’ face, despite her tears and the growing darkness. She suddenly knows what she needs to say most of all.

“Katniss,” she whispers, the name like a prayer, just before everything fades away. “Goodbye.”

/

As District Twelve burns, Madge swears she hears Katniss whisper back to her.

 _Goodbye_.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this one in JULY 2014, y'all. Finishing this up 2.5 years later in December 2016, lol. This shows a lot of my old writing style, from the descriptions (back when I tried) to the non-chronological time jumping to the angst (idk why I thought angst was so cool) to the ending to even the fandom! Definitely a nostalgic piece, but I did edit it to be kind of more modern me, that is to say - more gay. Never too late to finish up old fics, and I'm happy to share this with you! Also, @14 year old me, you did good. Love, 17 year old me.


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